Hard Impact: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel

by Grey, Helen

  After a moment or two, her arms wrapped around my waist. She pressed herself closer. I felt her breasts against my body, felt her abdomen pressing against my hips. I wasn’t sure how the belt of her bathrobe came undone, but her robe hung open. I couldn’t see much in the darkness, but my hands stroked along her shoulders, gently sliding the robe down along her arms until it lay in a heap at her feet. She stood naked in front of me.

  Her chest rose and fell as my hands skimmed up along her shoulder to caress her neck. Her pulse hammered against my palm. My thumb traced her jaw line as I lifted my head from nuzzling her neck to kiss her lips. She responded, kissing me back, giving as good as I gave. And then her hands reached for the bottom of my t-shirt and slid underneath. The warmth of her palms skimming my abdomen and the breadth of my chest filled me with an unquenchable desire. My cock lengthened and grew hard in seconds, trapped in my jeans.

  She hitched in a breath as I stroked my hands along those glorious shoulders of hers. I wrapped one arm around her back while my free hand continued its journey toward her breast. In seconds, I cupped the weight of it in my hand, lifting it gently, squeezing, my thumb brushing over the hard nub of her nipple. Shifting my position, I held her in the same way I’d imagined earlier. I stood behind her, pressing her back against my chest. My lips nuzzled the base of her neck as she pressed herself against me and then lifted her hands to thread her fingers through my hair. I reached around her, cupping both breasts now, their weight luxurious, my palms rubbing, circling, and gently squeezing the soft flesh of those magnificent globes.

  I continued to caress a breast and then began to slide slowly downward over the velvety softness of her belly until I reached her mound. And then, as I had imagined, I caressed her lower lips, realized that she was hot, wet, and more than likely aching with the same desire I felt. My cock was close to bursting out of my pants.

  Urging her toward the couch, I gave her a chance to retreat, but she didn’t. She sat down. I remained standing as she reached for the buttons of my jeans. While she worked them loose, I lifted my shirt completely over my head and flung it to the floor. One button at a time, she unfastened my jeans and grasping my belt loops, slowly pulled my pants down toward my knees. Her breath came faster as she repeated the process with my boxers. My cock bounced free, fully extended and reaching toward her.

  Her hands reached for it and cupped my balls with one hand. They tightened instantly as she kneaded them in her gentle grasp, the other hand wrapping around my length. I quickly stepped out of my shoes and managed to get my pants and boxers off just before she leaned forward and took me into her mouth. I was startled by the move, but before I could even react she began to suck. Gently at first, then firmer. My hips instinctively thrust forward, not hard, but enough to encourage her to take me deeper.

  She restricted my depth into her mouth with the hand wrapped around the base of my shaft, and suckled gently, then swirled her tongue over my head, causing my stomach to clench. I let her continue for a few more seconds before I gently pulled away, afraid that if I wasn’t careful, I would lose control. Before she could react to my sudden movement, I dropped to my knees in front of her, nestled between her legs, and pushed her gently back into the corner of the couch. My lips found hers and I kissed her deeply, my tongue tracing the contours of her mouth before delving within. And then our tongues were tangling and swirling, much as her tongue had done only seconds ago on my cock.

  My hands rested gently on her shoulders before they softly skimmed down the length of her smooth, ivory skin. Her breath hitched in her chest and I broke off the kiss, but not the contact. My lips and tongue gently traced the contour of her jaw, nuzzling just below her ear, then downward to the crook of her neck before reaching my goal, that glorious crevice in between her firm, beautiful breasts. While my lips nuzzled first one nipple, then moved to offer equal attention to the other, my hands continued to skim down along her arms, then to her waist, caressing her hips and then her thighs. She made little noises deep in her throat as my hands grasped her knees and then gently bent them upward. She sat braced in the corner of the couch, her heels planted on the cushion, open to me.

  After every move, I paused for a second or two, giving her a chance to stop me. It appeared that she didn’t want me to stop any more than I did. Finally, relinquishing my attention on her nipples, my lips and tongue once again began to trail downward, nuzzling against the skin of her belly. To my chagrin, I couldn’t see a thing, but then again, I didn’t really need to. My hands memorized every dip and curve of her luscious body.

  When my lips touched the inside of her thigh and my tongue traced toward her knee, she hissed sharply, groping to grasp onto my dick. I offered a small chuckle that rumbled from deep in my chest as I traced my way back up the inside of her thigh until I found myself at the juncture.

  I glanced up at her, my hands resting gently on her knees, the core of her femininity exposed to all of my senses except sight. I couldn’t see her expression in the very dull light of the barely glowing embers of the fire. But if the sounds she was making was any indication, she was enjoying herself as much as I was.

  Her hands threaded into my hair, clenching handfuls of it and softly caressing. And then I lowered my lips to hers, stroked the length of her slit. A moan of pleasure escaped her throat as I began to nuzzle, suckling softly, and then swirling my tongue around the nub of her clitoris. She was hot, wet, and as my tongue explored and then dipped inside, I felt her internal muscles contract. Her reaction doubled my own pleasure. My cock throbbed with desire and impatience, but I was more focused on her for the moment. I could wait. This was too delicious.

  When I felt her thigh muscles tensing beneath my ministrations on her pussy, I doubled my efforts. I slid my palms upward along the inside of her thighs and up her belly until they once again cupped each of her breasts. I rubbed my palm gently over her nipples, then squeezed, tweaked, and caressed while my tongue did the same at her core. Her breasts rose upward, as did her hips as they began to slowly gyrate beneath my mouth. My tongue slowly flicked upward and lathed her clitoris before gently sucking. She made low throated mewling sounds as she climaxed.

  Her contractions were long and rhythmic until, after what seemed like forever, her thigh muscles gradually relaxed. Her hands on the side of my head urged me upward, and then they were tracing the contours of my chest, sliding down my abdomen, urging me even higher. I’d barely gotten back to my feet before she took me into her mouth again. Her left hand clutched the base of my cock while her right hand roamed over my lower back, following the curve of my ass. I was hard and hot. I succumbed to her exquisite tongue for several moments, until I felt my own climax building. I quickly pulled my cock from her mouth while she continued to use her hand to stroke the length of my engorged and throbbing shaft. I felt the eruption, the surge of semen as it exploded from my depths.

  My hands braced on her shoulders, I threw my head back and groaned loudly as I climaxed into her hand, my world growing even darker around the edges. My passion spent, I stopped moving and placed one hand over hers. She relinquished her grip on my cock but didn’t pull away from me. Neither of us said anything for several moments.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I said softly. I stepped away from her and then walked naked toward the bathroom under the stairs. Without turning on the light, I reached for the towel rack, pulled the hand towel off, and then returned to the living room. She was gone. I glanced down, saw that the bathrobe that had dropped from her shoulders only minutes before at the base of the stairs was also gone.

  I wasn’t sure if I should go upstairs after her, then decided to give her space. Maybe she was just as surprised as me by the power and the passion of what just occurred between us. There was no doubt we shared and enjoyed a unique physical chemistry. I had no feelings of guilt, no sense that I had seduced her, nothing that convinced me that I had anything to be sorry for. While I didn’t think I’d taken advantage of her, I couldn’t help but feel that I�
�d indulged in a lack of judgment, to say the very least.

  I stood at the base of the stairs for several moments, then wiped myself off. I strode toward the fireplace and tossed the hand towel onto the glowing embers of the fire. My thoughts troubled, my emotions racing from one thought to the next, I began to pull on my clothes.

  Common sense returned with the effect of a splash of cold water. What the hell had gotten into me? She was a journalist! What was to stop her from… no, I didn’t want to think that about her. I didn’t want to think I had taken advantage of her, seduced her, or used her any more than she had me. We had enjoyed each other’s company. Nothing more and nothing less.

  Nevertheless, I felt mired in a disturbing, if satisfying predicament.

  CHAPTER 8

  Misty

  O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!

  I quickly raced up the stairs, ignoring my protesting muscles, the heaviness between my legs, the still tingling sensations behind my nipples. What had I done? More importantly, what had I allowed Blake to do? For crying out loud, I’d only just met him and I had let him… oh God, that tongue!

  I had acted like a slut, but I wasn’t one — nothing could be further from the truth. What would Blake think of me? How could I face him again? Had he seduced me or had it been the other way around? Were we equally to blame? It had just… happened. Still, it wasn’t very professional on either of our parts, but there was no going back to undo it. I would remember those moments forever. The dull glow of the embers, the warmth of the room, of his hands, his cock… every sensation, every touch, every sound that had rumbled from deep in his chest was permanently implanted in my memory.

  As I stepped into my room, quietly closed the door and leaned against it, I had to ask myself a question. Did I regret it? Physically, no. Emotionally, I wasn’t sure. I should. I should feel damned embarrassed, guilty, or the very least chagrined. But as I slowly walked toward the bed, I realized I didn’t feel any of those things. It’d been a wonderful moment that we both shared.

  I didn’t understand why I was so attracted to him, and certainly couldn’t understand why he felt such an attraction to me. Not that I was putting myself down or anything. I was happy with myself, confident, to a degree, and felt that I had just as much to offer a man as any woman.

  Except for my weight.

  Except for my birthmark.

  I shook my head, trying to shake those thoughts away.

  They wouldn’t go.

  Blake Masters? Really? He was way out of my league… wasn’t he? Then again, why should any man be considered out of my league? I had a lot to offer, not only sexually, but emotionally and mentally.

  Stepping into the bathroom, I washed the evidence of our encounter down the sink, then quickly splashed water my face. As I climbed into bed, I realized I’d forgotten to get the glass of water I’d gone down to get in the first place. I had been startled to hear Blake’s voice coming from the couch when I reached the bottom of the stairs. Why hadn’t he gone up to bed? I scoffed. What did I know about his sleeping habits? Maybe he slept in a chair or on a sofa all the time.

  I wondered what he was thinking right this moment. Was he kicking himself, regretting what we had done, or could he be going to the other extreme, crushing on me? I snickered at my thought as I climbed between the sheets, my body still humming with the memory of his lovemaking.

  No, not lovemaking. We hadn’t made love. We’d had sex… oral sex. That’s all it was. Sex. An interlude, consensual, both needing something from each other.

  No regrets and no promises. I couldn’t go back and undo it and I wasn’t going to kick myself endlessly for my temporary lapse in judgment. I would just have to make sure that it didn’t happen again and would trust that he would do the same. After all, as soon as this interview was over, we would both be going our separate ways. As far as I was concerned, the interview could already be over. I would find out what he had to say in the morning. Either he allowed me to ask the questions I needed to ask or there was no point in pursuing this interview any further.

  Especially now. After those moments on the sofa.

  Cuddled under the covers, I stared up into the darkness, my memory going back over every move, every sound, and every sensation. I knew that I would never tell anyone, not even Melanie, what Blake and I had done. For one, it was nobody’s business, and for two, I didn’t need anyone giving me the third degree or asking for a blow-by-blow. I grimaced at my choice of words.

  No, this was something that I would keep to myself, close to my heart. Things like this just didn’t happen to me. I rolled over, faced the wall, and then resolved that I would make no apologies, and I hoped that Blake didn’t either. I didn’t want him to be sorry for what he — we — had done. It happened, and we would move on.

  I would just have to wait and see what happened tomorrow. Either I would continue his inspections with him, or I would find myself on my way back to San Francisco. Regardless of either decision, I wouldn’t take it personally. I had no aspirations, expectations, or goals when it came to Blake Masters. I had a job to do, and I would do my best to complete my assignment. When I returned to San Francisco, I would likely never see him again.

  The problem would be purging him from my memory.

  *

  As I headed downstairs the following morning, I got a definite whiff of bacon and coffee, and eggs. My heart fluttered nervously in my chest. I would not be embarrassed. I would not be embarrassed! I reached the bottom of the steps and then turned to move down the hallway toward the kitchen. I heard the clatter of a pan on the stove, then a cupboard opening and closing.

  I hesitated briefly before stepping into the kitchen, taking a deep breath and walking in with a smile, as if nothing had happened between us. “Something smells good,” I said lightly. My heart skipped a beat when Blake turned around. He wore a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. His hair looked freshly washed, still damp, tufts of it dangling over his forehead. It took every ounce of discipline I had not to step toward him, reach my hand up and smooth them back.

  “Hungry?”

  “I wasn’t really, until I smelled the bacon,” I admitted.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the small table under a window that overlooked the woodpile and the woods beyond the cabin. I glanced at the cozy little nook, saw two placemats, two sets of silverware, and a glass of orange juice sitting in front of each place setting. I stepped to the table and sat down, reaching for the glass of orange juice and sipped as he dished out large spoonful’s of scrambled eggs onto blue-speckled tin plates. Moments later, he placed those two heaping plates of steaming scrambled eggs, several slices of bacon, and two lightly browned pieces of toast onto the table.

  “Coffee?”

  “Please,” I said and waited for him to return to the table with the coffee. He placed a mug down in front of me, then sat, placing his own mug beside his steaming plate.

  “Dig in,” he said, reaching for his fork. “There’s nothing worse than cold eggs.”

  I smiled and nodded. Despite the nervous knot in my stomach, I began to eat. After several moments, Blake cleared his throat and my heart thumped in my chest. I didn’t want him to say anything about the previous evening. “Please don’t say anything about last night, Blake,” I said, beating him to it. “Let’s just forget it happened, all right?” I glanced at him, saw him gaze at me — uncertainty I thought — for several moments, and then slowly nod.

  “Sure,” he said before stabbing a large clump of scrambled egg onto his fork.

  I decided to get the question out into the open. “So are we done now, or am I going to tag along with you as you inspect your next property?”

  He said nothing as he chewed. I had a sinking feeling that I would be going home today. My heart sank in disappointment, not in Blake, but in myself. Some journalist I was. I could just see the look on Angela’s face when I returned and told her that I hadn’t been able to complete the assignment, at least not in the way that she�
�d envisioned.

  “I’m not ready to talk about my father’s death,” he said bluntly. “I’ll try to be more forthcoming with other questions you have, but let’s keep that one off limits for now, shall we?”

  I thought about it and then nodded. “I suppose so,” I agreed. He had said, “not ready.” There might be a chance for me to delve more deeply into his past and get down to the truth before my time with him was over.

  “Will we be here much longer?”

  He glanced up from his plate. “Just a little something this afternoon in town, but tomorrow morning we’ll leave this property and go on to the next.”

  I nodded, secretly pleased that I didn’t have to leave yet. We both ate silently for several minutes. He was a good cook and I complimented him. He grinned.

  “I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

  “What, no fancy mansion, no cooks, no maids, no butlers?” I was only half joking.

  He shook his head. “I’ve got no need for a mansion, I can cook for myself, and I know how to do my own laundry.”

  I glanced at him, not needing to force my smile this time. Now that was a change of pace, wasn’t it? Then again, it wasn’t like I knew a lot of billionaires… or how they lived. What I knew about them, I’d read. I grimaced. I was beginning to understand his hesitancy in exposing himself to public view. Was it anyone’s business how he chose to live? Maybe Blake Masters wasn’t such a unique creature after all.

  Soon, we had both finished breakfast and he leaned back in his chair to finish off his coffee. “I fixed breakfast so you get to do the dishes.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. Then what?”